


Choices & Fates

by tommysmutnothingbut



Category: Peaky Blinders (TV)
Genre: Angst, Breeding Kink, F/M, Smut, alexa play careless whisper
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-29
Updated: 2019-03-29
Packaged: 2019-12-26 12:29:50
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,001
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18282413
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tommysmutnothingbut/pseuds/tommysmutnothingbut
Summary: a n g s t, season one vibes, season one spoilers, season one plot changes because I have a permit that reads: “I can do what I want”, **pregnancy kink**, humidity, raises that are actually bribes, it gets cheesy y’all, teachers that are boring but you like them anyway, guesstimation, that mood when you’re almost over your ex and they’re like “hey how have u been”, traumatized men whomst are horrible at communicating even if their point makes sense, a little more plot than smut and I am in fact a little bit sorry about that.





	Choices & Fates

**Author's Note:**

> Love you all, thank you for reading, as always x

“Bloody hell,” you shrieked, dropping the coins back down to the scuffed wooden table after losing count for the second time. “John, do you not see me counting?”

Flicking his toothpick between his teeth with a scrunched face of annoyance, he replied, “Huh?”

Sighing, you pinched the bridge of your nose. “What do you want?”

“D’you have the books?”

Putting your hands flat on the table, you looked up at him. “Are you incapable of finding them without Esme’s - or another woman’s - help?”

John stepped around your desk, your eyes following him sharply as he went, grumbling, “Alright, alright, I was just asking.”

With an annoyed roll of your eyes you turned your attention back to the mountain of coins in front of you, starting all over again, reluctantly plinking the coins into a new pile.

Dust motes floated softly across the slats of sunlight pouring into the betting shop, moving as slowly as the time was. The afternoon was heavy with late summer, lazy and hot, the air stuffy and thick with dry sun and damp humidity. The day had dragged on tediously as had the week, and you’d never been so happy to see a Friday come to a close.

The girl who normally occupied the betting desk had called in sick - sick with an illness you had no doubt she was curing with a day of swimming out in the country - and so you had been trapped here, taking monotonous bets among the crowded clamor of the shop, every customer seemingly crankier and stupider than usual.

But as Polly had pointed out, as gently as possible, your own surly mood wasn’t doing much to improve anyone’s day.

John’s presence shifted impatiently behind you, but you let him continue the impressive restraint he was managing. Miraculously able to wait until you’d dropped the current handful of coins you were counting onto the table before he spoke, John cleared his throat awkwardly before he began an equally uncomfortable questioning, “Where’s uh, y’know - is he, um -”

“You can say his name, John,” you said blankly as another set of ten - maybe nine - coins tinkled into the growing pile. Breezily, you considered that perhaps it had actually been eleven. After the day’s work and the conversation that was emerging, estimating sounded better than being precise.

“Fine,” John continued, “Where’s Tommy?”

“Not here,” your words clipped, trying your best to hide your irritation, “Been out all afternoon.”

John said nothing, raising his brows at your failure to disguise your feelings about Tommy’s whereabouts, and moved to the chalkboard to settle in with his own work.

It had been six weeks and three days since you and Tommy had ended your relationship, and when you lay awake at night in your empty bed you counted the hours, too. Truthfully, you couldn’t even place whose fault or idea it had been; Tommy’s cold indifference clashing with your emotional fires had opened up a chasm between you, and by the time it had torn apart you could barely recognize any of the pieces of your past life with him, let alone think about picking them up.

Together since school - for more years than you could count - you and Tommy had always been blissfully inseparable, thick as thieves with a love that could have rivaled any author’s best attempt at romance. Even when Tommy had left for France in a blur of your tears and his strength, your love hadn’t changed, war holding no candle to what you two had shared; your letters were constant, any second of leave Tommy received had been spent with you, tucked away in his room on Watery Lane. You had felt - seen - him changing, the smiling boy you once knew being starved away by the horrors of the trenches, but it hadn’t changed your feelings for Tommy nor his for you. At least you hadn’t thought so, until a train full of ghosts brought Tommy home for good.

The first few weeks of his return hadn’t been anywhere near normal, but they were happy, even with Tommy’s nightmares that you soon became all too acquainted with. Even with the stoic, heavy new armor he’d acquired for his soul, Tommy let you in, let you help him, and things were almost as they used to be. But it wasn’t long before things had begun to change, the beautifully arctic eyes that you loved took on the hungry edge of ambition, Tommy’s care and attention gradually shifting away from you, distracted and calculating during the short times you’d spend together. No longer letting you in, he’d brush you off and go to sleep, or disappear for hours on end, leaving you to worry and wonder without explanation.

Soon, posh men with sharp suits were coming in and out of the shop and the Garrison with greedy gazes eyeing up Tommy’s business and occasionally, your figure, soon to be followed by rude comments that brought an unwelcome blush to your cheeks. None of it inspired any ire or possession from Tommy, who would just look away if he noticed at all, leaving you to fend for yourself, a clench in his jaw that you assumed was only there because his time was being wasted.

Over the past six months you’d tried anything and everything, doing your best to let Tommy chase whatever heaven he’d set his sights on without complaint. Forever desirous to stay by his side, you tried to show him that you would: not asking where he was going or who he was with; not asking why the boys came back raucous and out of breath night after night, covered in freshly clotted cuts and blooming bruises; letting him fuck you more savagely than he ever had, afterwards letting him roll over and go to sleep without a word. But each passing month only made your heart heavier and pushed you further out to sea, Tommy seemingly no longer wanting anyone by either of his sides except his aspirations and the ruthlessness they required, caring not for your loneliness.

The day your patience and pain had caved in on you, your threshold reached and surpassed by the distance that had frozen a wedge between you and Tommy, he had barely seemed to care. At each mention of your loyalty, love, or devotion, his eyes had only grown farther away. Only for a second had a wave of pain crossed his carved features, as soon as you uttered you were leaving. But before he could let the wave knock him to his senses he consented to your choice by omission, silently turning on his heel and walking out the door, leaving you to your tears. In a memory you now looked back on in embarrassment, you’d waited for more than a few minutes for him to return, a return that would bring apologies on his angelic lips and utterances of how stupid he had been, flowers fresh in hand. But with one last show of neglect and indifference, Tommy hadn’t returned, and by the time the sun set you and your things were blocks from Watery Lane, your tears introducing themselves to their new pillow.

Your new flat wasn’t home yet, but you were allowing yourself to think that it was beginning to feel like something close to it. What you were doing, moving your beating heart from day-to-day, felt more like surviving and less like living, but you were managing. Tommy had made his choice and you had made yours, and each morning you told yourself in the mirror that it was time to act accordingly.

Unfortunately, a flat of your own was far more expensive than living with the Shelby’s for near-nothing, and that was the reason for your presence in the gambling office on a sweltering Friday with Tommy still remaining your boss. You’d tried to quit, but Polly played her ace right into your own pocket, coercing you with a raise, for you knew she was secretly hoping you and Tommy would reconcile and would influence it no matter the cost. Telling yourself you didn’t hope for the same, you’d begrudgingly accepted, seduced by a wage you knew you’d find nowhere else and the same secret wish.

Quickly, you realized you’d been as naive to stay in your job as you had been in thinking that Tommy would change. Other than his constant foul mood - brought on by the business he now found himself in, you were sure - Tommy seemed unchanged by your exit from his bed and his life, as if he had been waiting for it to happen. The interactions you were forced to have were cordial but terse, Tommy not wanting to spend any more time with you than he had to.

The extra money didn’t help to numb the reminder of your heartbreak that every workday brought, and you’d nearly up-and-quit more than once. But just when you would come close, you’d catch Tommy staring, as if he knew, the bags under his eyes from his nightmares and his work making him look more haunted than you’d ever seen him. Mere seconds though they were, the moments of Tommy’s eyes on yours became things you would mull over at night when you couldn’t sleep, wondering if the pained regret and anguish that he aimed at you were nothing but figments of your own desperate and lonely imagination.

And so the weeks had passed, the slow tide of limbo pulling you towards turning your back on Tommy for good but then pushing you to wait, to wait for another one of his looks of apologetic longing, asking you to stay until things were as they used to be.

For now you stifled your thoughts and held your absolute focus on the comforting rhythm of your counting while John wrote up the chalkboard for Saturday’s races behind you, the air slowly growing hotter as the late-afternoon sun continued to stream into the shop. But nothing peaceful can last, and forever unable to let you be - in and outside your mind - Tommy announced his entrance by slamming the door open, ricocheting it from the wall before slamming it shut behind him, Polly’s annoyed chiding echoing in from the distant kitchen before it was your turn to swear.

“Fuck’s sake!” you spat bitterly, a tendril of hair falling into your face as you flapped your hands in exasperation. “Can none of you let me do my bloody counting?”

Done for the day and taking his cue for exit, John exchanged brief words in Romani with his brother and sauntered out the door, for he’d answered your question upon his entrance. Tommy ignored you as well and you were glad for it - a fierce anger on his face caused by something you told yourself you had little interest in knowing, his dark hair ruffled but his dark suit impeccable.

“Not that it matters, apparently,” you muttered to yourself as Tommy stalked into his office, and you finished up your count with a few more estimations, just for the spite of it.

Gathering your things, you ignored the vibration of Tommy’s presence that came from inside his office, seemingly directed right at you, something you would always be aware of. A wave of pain and grief that accompanied endings and losses washed over you for a moment, the smell of his cologne and the pang of the distance between you rolling a wave that threatened to take you out at the knees. But as soon as it came it was gone, back out to sea. They had been coming quicker and farther apart, and for that you were grateful.

Emotions aside, you couldn’t hold in your groan when you remembered it was payday - a pay doled out by Tommy since he’d fired the accountant in one of his tempers. A newspaper snapping from within his office let you know he’d heard your complaint.

“Let’s get this over with,” you grumbled to yourself, puffing your blouse away from your dewy chest a few times as you strode towards Tommy’s office.

Not bothering to reveal his face from behind his paper, Tommy issued a grunt in answer to your knock, which you assumed was permission to enter.

“It’s payday,” you said blankly, staring at the chaotic array of letters on the paper, the sun streaming behind it illuminating the stories on the back and the front.

“So it is,” Tommy said after a moment, still unmoving.

Clenching your teeth briefly, you ignored his goading, “So - ” you prompted, “ - can a lady get paid and get on with her Friday?”

Tommy finally tore his eyes from the paper and gave their attention to you, jarringly light and sharpened by his train of thought. The air grew tight between you, both of you refusing to break away from your tense stare first. The sun behind him angelically illuminated the lighter brown of Tommy’s hair, a misleading auburn halo surrounding his handsome face.

Thankfully Tommy broke away smoothly from your staring contest before a blush had risen to your cheeks, standing and walking to the safe, spinning the dial with ease.

“Somewhere to be?” Tommy asked impatiently, voice low with his back to you, as if paying you was a burden of a task.

“That’s none of your concern,” you answered after a moment, letting the implication hang in the air.

A heavy silence grew thick in the stuffy heat as Tommy stopped his spinning, unmoving. And then the weight of it was gone, a loud grating telling you that Tommy had missed the last number on the safe’s lock, his deft and precise fingers spinning it backwards to clear it and begin again. Tommy didn’t miss a target, even on a safe’s dial.

Finally gaining access to your pay and turning to give it to you, face blank and voice cold, Tommy continued his questioning with a new audacity.

“Who is he?” he asked, his voice clipped and jaw clenched, angled face dark.

The most curiosity Tommy had after you or your life in the past six months had only to do if you were finding happiness with someone other than him, the hypocrisy of it shooting anger through your system and venom into your mouth.

“What do you care?” you shot back, snatching your pay from him and daring yourself to hold his icy stare, hoping that he felt every ounce of hurt and bitterness in your own. Met once again with silence, this time you didn’t wait for something to change. “You have no right to stand in my way.”

With a last withering glare you turned and left, your skirts swishing around your calves, not even bothering to consider if Tommy had felt anything at all.

Leaving your anger in Tommy’s office, you shut the shop’s door behind you and stepped into the sunshine, suddenly feeling lighter than you had all day. For the first time in weeks you didn’t shed a single tear on your walk back to your new flat, but neither did you feel the sad eyes on your back, following each of your steps until you’d turned the corner.

******************

The pub was busy - even for a Friday - the warm weather inspiring everyone to drink. Not the Garrison but homey all the same, the hole-in-the-wall around the block was as good as any, woody and worn-in, post-war with its slightly fraying cushions and oil lamps. It smelled like an attic with the window open: centuries old but only the slightest bit musty; fresh air swirling what lay within into a pleasant haze of perfume and linen, the tobacco perfectly complementing the summer heat. You felt more content than you had in a long time as you sat at the bar, the gin you were sipping beginning to loosen the knots in your back. The sun had dropped and the night was only starting out on its rowdy journey, jazz music scratchily warbling through the laughter. Your date didn’t look out of place here either, as the crisp and clean professor he looked like just another character amongst the many within Friday’s circus.

Victor was kind and handsome in a way that you could tell his Oxford education had produced, and even if he was a touch boring, he was better than a Friday night at home with your ghosts - again. Victor expected nothing, simply happy to just be in your presence, an admiration you hadn’t felt in a long time. He did know of the Peaky Blinders as well as your affiliation, not immune to overhearing gossip. With a blind courage that few others would have shown, he’d waited a mere two weeks after you became unattached before trying his luck with you at the market, unafraid of Tommy’s wrath, only in Birmingham to teach for a year at the university. For a while you’d declined, for both his sake and yours. But he was persistent in a flattering way, and as your hope for Tommy faded, you had given in at last.

“Are you sure you don’t mind?” you said, speaking directly into his ear in order to beat out the noise of the increasingly drunken patrons, but truly just referring to being in Small Heath at all, slightly too close for comfort, even for the bravest of knights.

Nodding, Victor finished his drink and answered you in his neat London accent, out of place but as crisp as his Windsor knot amongst the Brummie clamor, his smile genuine to match the look of adoration he gave you. “Quite sure.”

Even if he was lying, which you suspected from the paleness he’d acquired since you’d stepped in the pub with him, gathering more than a few wary stares, Victor’s easy answer and soft smile were sights for a sore soul, and if you didn’t think about it too hard, and avoided talking about yourself, the syrupy happiness from gin and summer accompanied him very nicely.

The pictures had been an excellent distraction, Mary Pickford’s latest doing more than enough to take your mind off of the day you’d had. Victor had enough sense not to try anything, sitting by your side and laughing when you did.

Now only amongst the jubilant masses of the pub did thoughts of Tommy plague you, but you pushed them out with as much strength as you could silently muster, trying to keep up with Victor as he delved into the in’s-and-out’s of his studies, the duties of molding young minds, and the endless questions he had about life in Small Heath, as if it was a different planet.

“Where did you go?” Victor asked a while later, not condemning but simply curious about the glaze that had fallen over your eyes, having waited politely for it to dissolve, you’d noticed.

“Oh, I’m sorry,” you groaned, “I just had a long day, do continue.”

“No need for that,” he replied, standing and sliding off his suit jacket, revealing his lean frame, “a dance?”

Still weighted down with your various sadnesses, you nearly said no. But the new steps you were taking towards happiness begged you to do otherwise, and as you were beginning to favor them, you said yes.

The moon was hung loftily in the indigo sky by the time you left the pub, red-faced and laughing, your heels swinging from Victor’s hand. The night was nearly as hot as the day had been, and the air did little to ebb the sheen on your skins.

Victor walked you home and kissed your cheek shyly, his hesitance making you smile. With a promise to read the book he recommended and loose plans for a second date somewhere far from Small Heath, he left you at your door. Scampering up to your window, you watched him go until you couldn’t see him anymore, mostly just to make sure he was still alive.

With a sigh you took your earrings out and plopped down at your vanity, alone again. Gin and Victor’s distraction had kept the emptiness at bay, but the sad edge your date held crept in, feeling like nothing more than the first step on a long road back to who you were before you met Tommy. Victor was kind and sweet, smart and funny, any entry-level adjective you could have chosen. Perhaps if you tried, you could love him. But now it felt so far away that anything less felt pointless, merely pointing you to the gaping hole in your chest that felt bigger just when you thought it had shrunk.

A knock at your door did bring your smile back briefly, and you exhaled softly through your nose as you tip-toed quickly to the door, wondering if a kiss of second-thought bravery would assist you in stitching your heart back up.

Swinging the door open, your smile fell and your brows knit, already pushing the door back to its starting place with a curt, “No.”

“Wait,” Tommy said, his broad hand wrapping around the door, stopping you from shutting it. “I want to talk to you, alright? I just want to talk.”

“Let me think,” you mused, tapping your foot in consideration, “no.”

“Y/N,” Tommy fought back against your push on the door again, gaining ground. “Please.”

Anger and anxiousness urged adrenaline into your blood, and your voice rose a pitch as you felt even more sorrow flood in at the sight of his pleading face, an expression you’d rarely seen. “I said no! I enjoyed myself with someone who isn’t you, and that’s what brings you back? Fuck off, Tommy.”

“You’re not supposed to be with someone else.”

A laugh of disbelief burst sharply from your lips, and you held Tommy’s gaze.

“Then perhaps you should have thought of that before,” you said, pushing your body weight against the door, trying to shove him out.

“Fucking Christ,” he swore, easily pushing into your apartment and slamming the door behind him, ignoring your fists on his back, turning to catch them before your rings could knick his jaw. “Listen to me.”

You fixated on your anger, your hurt, and only that; not Tommy’s cologne, not the strong warmth of his hands around your wrists, not his closeness, his chest occasionally brushing yours as you tried to wrestle away.

“I made a mistake, alright, but I didn’t push you away for nothing, eh? You don’t understand.”

“Then tell me, Thomas,” you burst out, tearing away from him at last and shoving him weakly. The gin had turned on you, serving up your tears as if you hadn’t spilled a single one in all your life, “tell me all the good reasons you had for what you did. Don’t you understand that I watched you fall out of love with me?” you shoved him with every syllable, your tears blurring his face from your vision “ I’ve been walking around, thinking it’s my fault - ”

“I had to, Y/N, this business, these men, it’s - ”

“Thinking its my fault, and now only when someone else wants me, you have some great realization of your mistakes?” you spat, your voice growing ever louder “After all the years together? Just nothing then? Fuck off, Thomas, fuck you and -“

Tommy pushed your hands away from him and grabbed your upper arms, shaking you, his bellowing voice scaring you quiet, the windows quivering. “They would have hurt you, or worse, do you understand? I couldn’t have you involved, I couldn’t have you in this, this - ” he faltered, pain in his eyes as he carried on, “ - that fucking business!”

“What are you talking about? What business?” you asked, confusion swirling in your brain and tightening your chest, your voice small. But reason didn’t let you give Tommy room for answer, carrying you forward, “So you pushed me away instead of telling me?”

“I’ll explain, alright? But I need you.”

All of it hit you like a train, your shoulders rising and falling steadily, your breaths matching Tommy’s. The only thing that kept you from believing it was a dream were the calluses of Tommy’s hands on the soft skin of your arms, his grip near painful as he held you tight, unwilling to let you go.

“I need you to come back to me,” Tommy said again, his voice softer, the sound of it breaking your heart. “I can’t do this, have any of this, without you, eh? None of it fucking matters.”

“What of them now?” you asked, blinking the last tears from your eyes as your ocean calmed. “Do they suddenly no longer want to kidnap and torture me somewhere?”

Tommy’s eyes flashed, forever unappreciative of your facetiousness, but it was over quickly, “I didn’t think that you…I didn’t think that you would find some new bastard so fast -”

“Humble, you are.”

“ - and that I would work it out, tell you everything, have you back before that happened. But today, when you told me - ” Tommy shook his head, his forehead so close to touching yours. “I couldn’t take it. So it’s over. I need you back.”

“Just like that?” you asked, tilting your head in a dull disbelief, still full of confusion. So it came as a surprise when the angle of your gaze found the blood on Tommy’s collar that you hadn’t noticed, and you followed it down to his chest where it bloomed darkly, the grey wool of his vest and blue stripes of his linen shirt soaked with crimson. Only as the pieces fell into place did you see the whiskey glaze that accompanied a victory in his eyes before you drew your eyes back to the blood.

‘Tommy - ”

“The blood’s not mine, alright?” Tommy assured you, his hands sliding to your face and holding tight until your worried eyes met his. “But I have some things to tell you.”

**************

The two of you moved to the Watery Lane house - for you needed whiskey for the conversation to ensue - and sat on the roof like you used to do when you’d started to see each other back in school, when all the necking spots were taken but you weren’t ready to part from each other, sneaking out and climbing up so you could look out over Small Heath’s dark span of sooty rooftops.

Tommy’s explanations of his dealings, business, licenses, and the men who wanted nothing more than for him to disappear for good, felt like a storm you could barely outrun, but he told you as many times as you asked him to repeat it. By the time you understood not just his ambitious logistics but the painful choices he had made for you both, the sun had barely begun to lighten the sky, still far below the horizon but announcing its coming with a subtly paler shade of blue. The amber whiskey was nearly gone, but you didn’t need to look at the bottle to know that, the warmth and calm of it giving you nearly as much clarity as Tommy had.

You soon realized that you couldn’t have fathomed the stakes that Tommy had taken to keep you safe: gone for hours because he’d take meetings anywhere but Small Heath, anywhere near you; secretive and cold because people had been watching him anywhere and everywhere; his foul temper and neglect not falling on only you, things with the family had gone to shambles from his means of protection and you’d barely noticed, so caught up in your heartbreak. Polly had wanted you two to reconcile so desperately because she’d thought that was the problem with Tommy and the reason for the misery he was inflicting on them all. Partly, she was right.

Billy Kimber had set eyes on you - you remembered the interaction yourself, a shiver up your spine serving as a reminder - and after some well-placed threats had fallen against you, Tommy began to build the wall between you both, pushing you away as far and as fast as seemed natural, Kimber’s men always watching, his spies in Small Heath. Although when you’d left Tommy had made sure you never went unprotected, his plan had soon worked, Kimber losing interest when he saw that threatening you would spark no ire in Tommy. So he’d shifted his sights onto the Shelby’s as a whole.

Between Kimber’s new threats and your new romance, Tommy had sped his chess game up to checkmate, sooner than he’d planned but thankfully with the same result, Kimber dead in the street below not four hours prior.

“Well…then,” was all you could muster once Tommy was done, every last piece in place. The blood of the night’s slaughter was still cooling on the streets, and you occasionally heard Curly and Charlie bickering while dealing with the aftermath.

“Yeah,” Tommy said in agreement, taking the second to last swig and handing the whiskey to you, light eyes squinted out at the horizon.

You accepted and finished it off, handing it back to Tommy for him to toss into the street below. It smashed with a tinkling shatter, and you giggled a little at the sound, more school-days nostalgia that warmed your heart even further than Tommy’s tales of murder and vengeance.

“Big money now, are you?” you asked, a teasing brow raised in his direction, humor breaking the serious air between you.

Tommy tried to hide his smile but failed, a sight you sorely missed. “We could be…I’d like to think.”

“We?”

“Do you still - ” Tommy cleared his throat awkwardly, shifting where he sat and looking at you boyishly. “Y’know, I know I -”

“You should have told me,” you blurted out. Even with your heart at peace and your mind slightly at ease, you had learned not to sell yourself short, and in case you lost your courage you uttered it now.

Tommy sighed and looked away, waiting a few long moments before looking back to you, his pale eyes bright against the night sky. “I know. I’m sorry.”

You didn’t hesitate to press your hand to his smooth cheek, your thumb tracing his cheekbone, while you smiled softly, “I know. ‘We’ it is then, mm?”

“‘We’ it is.”

Sitting in silence for a while, you let Tommy take your hand. It felt right, and as much as he had hurt you, you couldn’t deny that you understood. Resting your head on his shoulder felt even better, and you watched the sky continue to lighten until Tommy pressed his lips to your forehead, words that you weren’t sure you heard murmured against your skin.

“Wanted to marry you, you know.”

Looking up at Tommy, your skin finally found the breeze it had been desperate for all day, the rooftops suddenly gracious with the wind, blowing it across your face and tossing a curl in your eyes until Tommy moved it away.

“Wanted to?”

“Want to,” Tommy shrugged, once more fighting against his smile, his face mockingly serious instead. “You’ve known that since school.”

“Could’ve fooled me lately.”

Tommy’s eyes darkened at your joke, and you decided it would be a good few months until you could tease about the past six weeks. But he admitted, “Fair. But I mean it, Y/N. When all this calms down, eh? You and me.”

Considering that perhaps it would never calm down, you decided you didn’t care, the burning desire to be by Tommy’s side returning as it had all those months you’d fought for that place. Without hesitation you let him press his lips to yours softly. You didn’t know how much time passed, but you felt the hole in your chest seal up for good, Tommy kissing you back together.

Only when the newspaper boys began to make their rounds did you break apart, Tommy helping you to the roof’s edge and making sure you were in his room safely before he swung down himself. But mere seconds passed before your mouth was on his again, your senses starving for him, sliding his jacket off so you could run your hands down his arms, caring naught for his late enemy’s blood on his shirt.

It was soft and slow, the two of you made of nothing but breathless kisses and the whispers of your clothing. You sighed into Tommy’s mouth at the feeling of it, running your hands softly along the pale column of his neck, tracing the knots of muscle in his shoulders.

Sliding your dress from you, Tommy sucked at your neck and traced the arch of your spine, walking you towards his bed - your bed - while you tried to keep your breath steady, pushing his leather braces from his shoulders and pulling at the buttons of his shirt.

Picking you up to lay you beneath him, Tommy felt like home above you, his hands in your hair and the warm, heady scent of his bedroom filling your senses. Tommy’s body rippled as he moved over you, gripping you everywhere his hands could reach, pulling your bottom lip into his mouth. Between Tommy and the whiskey you were lightheaded, floating, feeling as close to heaven as you’d ever been. Running your hands down Tommy’s chest, you felt each plane of muscle and traced every freckle, your tongues dancing together as if they’d never been apart.

Slowly but steadily did your breathing grow into pants, your bodies grinding against each other as your kissing sped, heat spreading under your skin. Tommy’s cock had grown hard against your hip and you found yourself feeling nothing but that, your hips moving in answer.

Tommy pressed his lips hot to your cheek, murmuring to you, and in your daze you weren’t sure if you heard what you thought you’d heard.

“Have my baby,” Tommy whispered again when you asked, on the edge of a groan as he rolled his hips into you, the words moving like feathers from his lips to yours.

“Tommy,” you breathed through a smile, your eyes fluttering shut as his kisses fell upon your neck. You giggled in sputtered answer, not being able to word your question thanks to the patterns his tongue was tracing, “how?”

“You know how,” Tommy growled in impatient amusement, his teeth grazing the softness where your neck gracefully curved into your shoulder.

Laughing, you pulled back breathlessly, still lost in a lusty haze at the sight of him. His words stirred in you and you tried to sober them with sense.

“You know what I meant, Tommy. Now? Here? - ” your voice dropped to a whisper like an innocent girl, as if you were surrounded by people you didn’t want to see, “ - like this?”

Tommy smiled at you softly before closing the distance between you again, kissing you adamantly and snaking his arm up your back, his hand settling in your hair, the softness of his lips finding the spot just before your ear.

“I’ll marry you tomorrow if you want, eh?” You felt his teeth spread in a smile at the sound of your laughter-ridden response, for he knew that wasn’t your concern. But he soon returned to the desires eating at him, his hips pressing into yours again, the hard length of him ending your giggles for good as it ground against you. “Want to make you mine.”

Tommy’s voice was heated with need and his hand tightened in your hair, the heat of it all pulling the first moan from your lips. It was as if a spell had been uttered that now couldn’t be broken, your mind and body wanting nothing more than to be claimed, taken, filled.

“A baby,” you murmured, lost in yourself and Tommy’s lips that were now sucking marks into your neck as he knew you liked. “A baby, Tommy.”

“All mine,” he whispered, “ours.”

Your body writhed in response to the thought of being so his, wetness pooling hot between your legs. With fervor you smashed your lips onto Tommy’s, your tongues rolling together as your breaths came heavier still.

The house quiet except for the sounds of your reunion, Tommy’s bed - your bed - creaked in protest as Tommy sat up to take you in appreciatively, your lips swollen and hair a mess, as feral for him as he was for you. Needing no more confirmation, he gracefully lowered back onto you, dragging your night slip upwards as he did.

Your carnal rocking continued, your hips mimicking what you so desperately wanted as you ground yourself against Tommy’s cock. He smiled deviously into your mouth, teasing.

“Want to be filled up with cum, do you?”

The spilling over of filth nearly made your eyes roll back all on their own, and all you could do was nod, your forehead against Tommy’s, your noses brushing.

“All mine,” he repeated, a low, almost predatory covenant, holding you slightly from the bed with one arm while he tore your nightdress from you with the other.

Tommy re-acquainted himself with you , eagerly kissing at your breasts and wasting no time to sneak a hand between your thighs. Thoroughly distracted, you coiled lasciviously under every kiss and touch, running your hand up and down Tommy’s spine while you tangled the other in his dark mess of hair, and he graciously let you move his head and lips from one hardening nipple to the other and back again.

Your legs had long since parted, and Tommy’s swear was dark and greedy when he felt the wetness between them, lifting his head to look down at where his finger ran up the soaked folds of your pussy.

Easily ignoring your tugs on his hair for his mouth to return to your nipples, for your control had only existed so long as he let you have it, Tommy rocked upwards to rest his forehead on yours again, both of your bodies slick with sweat.

Your lips silently trembled as all your breath rushed from between them, Tommy’s finger pushing inside of you and curling, deftly rocking into the spot he knew so well.

“Did you miss me, pretty girl?”

Again, you could only nod, and you hoped your eyes gave Tommy his answer as your gazes locked, the love between you soft and hungry all at once.

“I missed you, too,” Tommy cooed, barely brushing his lips against yours as he kept his pace inside of you steady and firm, steadily pumping heat directly into your veins.

The peaks of your breaths began to crack with whines and Tommy smirked, pupils darkening his eyes as he watched you. You didn’t want to come, not yet, but Tommy wasn’t giving you any choice, pulling you closer and closer to the edge with each strong stroke of his finger, adding another to your tightness and rubbing your clit with the rough pad of his thumb.

“Tommy,” you breathed, your eyes shut to his smugly victorious gaze. “Please-“

“Mm,” Tommy cut you off smoothly, a velvet hum rumbling from his chest into yours. “Not yet, love. You come on my cock tonight.”

Barely protesting, you only whined for a moment before reaching for Tommy’s hips and fumbling with his buttons which soon gave way. He dropped his head to the crook of your neck as you used your feet to push his pants and boxers from him, wasting no time in wrapping both of your hands around the throbbing marble of him, sliding your hands up and down and whimpering through your begging.

“Make me yours,” you breathed throatily, barely holding on to your senses, “fill me, Tommy; give me a baby, all yours. Please.”

Tommy’s breath grew ragged against your shoulder, his hips rolling involuntarily to meet the slide of your hands on his cock. Emerging to drink in the last wisps of your words, Tommy pressed his lips to yours just as he pushed through the grip you had on his cock, sliding inside of you with a razor-sharp swear, his only announcement.

Stars stole your vision from you but you felt your whole body tighten and arch, a moan echoing off the walls that you vaguely understood to be your own. Pain radiated from between your legs in answer to Tommy’s size, but it only made your fire burn hotter and your orgasm come closer.

And then it was gone, Tommy pulling out of you with a furrowed brow and his full lips parted, savoring you.

“Fucking perfect,” he rasped, sitting back on his heels and looking down at you, ignoring your whines of complaint that demanded his presence returned to you.

Churning your hips in beckon, you brought your hands to your breasts and massaged them slowly, Tommy’s icy eyes glazing as he watched. Biting your lip, a sight he could never pull his attention from, you silently mouthed, yours.

Tommy growled and slapped one of your hands away from your breasts, seizing it and stroking his cock into you again until his hips met your own, his gaze ravenous as he watched himself bury himself in you.

Sinfully better than before, your moan was silent this time as Tommy’s cock filled you completely. Shakily, your breath rushed back out, Tommy’s hand tightening on your breast as he began to toy with you. Mercilessly, he slid out of you completely before stroking his cock back into your tightness as far as he could go, swearing and watching himself torture you, over and over again.

When Tommy could take no more he slid into you slowly, finality lacing each inch by torturous inch, one of your legs over his shoulder, your hips off the bed as his cock stretched you wide, the angle letting Tommy fuck you as deeply as he could.

Stars had long returned to your vision, the pain of Tommy so deep inside of you only partly residing in the land of pleasure. Tommy hadn’t forgotten how much you could bear, but you hadn’t forgotten how much he loved to flirt with your limits, either.

“Good girl,” Tommy hushed you, leaning forward and running his thumb along your lower lip. “So good. You’re going to take all my cum, aren’t you?”

“Fuck, Tommy,” you cried, a sudden and fierce need to come coiling up and down your spine, tightening a knot in your stomach.

Tommy felt you tighten and his eyes glinted, his strokes as steady as a ticking clock as he beckoned you to the edge, his voice low and thick, “Come on, pretty thing. Look at me, show me how badly you want to be mine.”

With your eyes not leaving Tommy’s, your breathing sped impossibly until it broke into cries of indescribable bliss, an electric fire that you’d sorely missed shooting out into every nerve ending, your toes curling into the softness of Tommy’s sheets, goosebumps tearing across your skin as your cum burst onto Tommy’s cock, dripping off of him as he continued to fuck you. Your pussy spasmed around him and Tommy swore in a dark rasp, bringing a thumb to your clit and playing with it gently, pulling out every last flame of your orgasm that he could. Leaning down to you, Tommy slowed for only a moment, kissing you passionately and pushing your hair from your face, letting your breathing even out again.

Pulling his cock from you, Tommy slid down your body, kissing his way to between your legs. Without hesitation he dipped his tongue into you, moaning at the taste, the sound rumbling up your sensitive clit and bringing another cry to your lips. Tommy watched you, cat-like, light eyes ruthless and knowing as they traced each movement and expression that he drew out of you.

His tongue skillfully flicked at your clit, two of his fingers rocking inside of you, and you had to remind yourself it wasn’t a dream. Helplessly whimpering under his touch, you let Tommy beckon you back to the edge of orgasm, your hips rolling into his face and his name falling from your lips.

“Right where I want you,” Tommy murmured, kissing your thigh before crawling back up to you, slipping his tongue into your mouth and letting you taste yourself as he slid back inside of you, hard and wanting.

Breaking away from your kiss, Tommy gripped your cheeks until your swollen lips parted and spit into your mouth, his pace now relentless as he fucked you hard, the bed frame hitting the wall with each thrust.

Swearing to himself and once more spitting between your parted lips, Tommy shifted his grip to your throat, ordering, “Swallow.”

Gratefully, you did, not daring to move your eyes from his even while Tommy’s thrusts filled you roughly, the muscles of your throat moving under his tightening hand as you obeyed.

You could see that it began his undoing, and Tommy left his dominance behind to lower himself back down to you, his arms beside your head, the veins of his forearms smooth and pressing against his skin. Still unable to look away from each other, you slid an arm around his neck and held him close, one small hand on the smooth sharpness of his cheek.

“Our baby, Y/N. Need you to,” Tommy whispered against your lips , feral and instinctual, as if he wasn’t really there, “Need it to be you, need it to be mine.”

Tears pricked your eyes but you easily blinked them away, hypnotized with the bliss of Tommy moving inside of you, slower and gentler. It felt like every part of your skin was made of him, and his of yours, seamless, as it used to be and as it would be from now on.

“I love you, Tommy,” you whispered, all breath and heightened senses as Tommy tensed above you, his hips stuttering, “I’m all yours, come inside me Tommy, please.”

With an open-mouthed swear, Tommy’s face crumpled angelically in the effort of coming, the heat of him and the life you’d now share spreading inside of you and soaking into your very blood, the two of you entwining forever. Imperceptibly and instinctually Tommy curled you gently beneath him, your hips up and his cock still hard inside you as he slowed, your pussy throbbing and full of cum, all of it running down into you as he kept you there, his muscles wrapped around you and holding you in place.

But you had no desire to move, and the sun was well over the horizon by the time the two of you stopped your soft kissing, Tommy pulling out of you only to cradle you into his chest, trailing his fingers lightly over your arms and brushing your hair from your face, your body coiled against him happily. Peppering ticklish kisses onto your face until you laughed, Tommy only stopped his assault when sounds of life drifted up from the house below, the clatter and smells of breakfast-making reminding you that you weren’t the only two people in the house.

Feeling delirious between the lack of sleep, night’s events, and heated reunion, you moaned in despair with a sad, “Poor Victor.”

Tommy laughed harder than you’d ever heard, pulling you impossibly closer, the tapering-off of his chuckle shaking his chest. “He’ll live.”

“Will he?” you asked, hair a mess as you stuck your head up to glare at Tommy, knowing him all too well.

“Yes,” Tommy sighed with an eye roll before sarcasm took over his features, “can’t go and off him if he never stood a chance, poor bastard. Not his fault.”

“Oh, stop it,” you giggled, poking Tommy between the ribs until he seized your hand and kissed it, holding you tight enough that you couldn’t move.

The coolness of the morning and the familiar warmth of Tommy’s skin made you sleepy, but before your eyes drifted shut for good Tommy pressed one more kiss to your lips, murmuring, “I love you.”

“I love you too,” you mumbled, letting him pull your back to his chest. Slipping his hand across your stomach, Tommy held you like that, both of you falling into the deepest sleep you’d had in weeks as Polly woke the house around you, not bothering to knock on your door.


End file.
